Part 1Reborn as a Baby, I Rewrote the Switching Script

Delivery room, 1:15 AM.

I’ve just been born.

In a little while, a nurse named Brenda Wallace will come in, steal me, and swap me with another family’s baby.

Last time, she succeeded.

I spent twenty years suffering in a cramped apartment. After I discovered the truth and came back to reclaim my family, the impostor served me a cup of poisoned tea and sent me right back to the Underworld.

This time is different.

I worked in the Underworld for ten years, saving up enough merit points to buy this one chance to do it all over again.

I stared at the clock on the wall, calculating silently.

One hour and forty-five minutes until Brenda makes her move.

…

In one hour and forty-five minutes, Nurse Brenda Wallace will push open this door.

She’ll say she’s taking the baby for a newborn screening.

My mother, exhausted from labor, won’t suspect a thing.

Brenda will then carry me to the supply closet at the end of the hall. Her cousin, Megan Fischer, will be waiting there, holding another newborn baby girl.

Two wristbands, a quick swap. Three minutes.

Sophie Summer becomes Sophie Fischer.

Jessica Fischer becomes Jessica Summer.

That’s how they stole twenty years of my life.

But right now, I’m just a newborn. I can’t talk, can’t roll over, can’t even hold up my own head.

There are only three things I can do: cry, grab, and stay awake.

But that’s enough.

Ten years in the Underworld taught me one thing very clearly: a mother’s intuition about her child is the most sensitive alarm system in the world.

I just need to activate it.

My mother held me for a while, her eyelids drooping.

My father whispered beside her, “Honey, you sleep first. I’ll watch her.”

No.

Last time, my father couldn’t stay awake and went to lie on the sofa for a bit. That’s when Brenda found her opportunity.

I don’t need my father to watch me.

I need my mother to hold me, pressed tightly against her, so no one can separate us.

Just as my mother was about to put me back in the bassinet…

“Waaaahhh!”

I let out an ear-splitting scream. Not a normal cry, but a gut-wrenching shriek.

My mother flinched and quickly pulled me back into her arms. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Don’t cry, don’t cry…”

The moment she held me close, I went silent. My big eyes were filled with tears, and one tiny hand was clenched tightly around the collar of her hospital gown.

My mother paused. “Look how tight she’s holding on. It’s like she’s afraid I’ll put her down.”

My father reached out to take me.

“WAAAAAHHH!”

Louder this time, and sharper.

He snatched his hand back, startled.

I snuggled back into my mother’s arms, instantly quiet, still clutching her gown.

My father didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “She’s only two hours old and already a mama’s girl?”

Tears welled in my mother’s eyes. “It’s like she only wants me.”

She tightened her arms, holding me firmly against her chest.

“Then I won’t put her down. I’ll sleep with her in my arms tonight.”

The minutes ticked by.

At 2:00 AM, my father was snoring on the sofa.

My mother was getting drowsy too, but I made sure to let out a little whimper every ten minutes, just enough to keep her in a state of half-sleep.

2:30 AM.

2:40 AM.

2:50 AM.

My heart started to beat faster.

2:55 AM.

Faint footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. The rubber-soled nurse’s shoes made almost no sound on the linoleum.

But I heard them.

The footsteps stopped outside our door. The doorknob turned slowly.

A woman in a white coat pushed the door open. She was in her mid-thirties, with an average build and a standard professional smile. She was pushing a baby transport cart.

Brenda Wallace.

I’ve waited ten years for you.

She lowered her voice. “Mrs. Summer, sorry to disturb you. It’s time for the baby’s newborn metabolic screening. We just need to draw a little blood from her heel. We’ll have her back in a minute.”

My mother opened her eyes blearily. “A screening? Now?”

“It’s usually done between two and four hours after birth. It’s easier while the baby is calm.”

Her words were smooth, her tone gentle and professional. That’s how she had fooled my mother last time.

My mother’s grip started to loosen.

Now.

“WAAAAAHHHHH!”

My explosive cry ripped through the quiet room. I cried, kicked, shook my head, my whole body trembling. I curled into a tight ball, clinging to my mother’s chest. All ten of my tiny fingers dug into the fabric of her gown, as if they were welded there.

My mother was startled and instinctively pulled me closer. “What is it, sweetheart?”

My father shot up from the sofa. “What’s going on?”

Brenda’s smile faltered for a second before she regained her composure. “Mr. Summer, it’s just a routine screening. The baby was probably just startled by our voices.”

My father looked at me, wailing my heart out, then back at Brenda.

“Does this screening have to be done right now?”

“It’s hospital policy…”

“My daughter doesn’t seem well. Can we do it tomorrow during the day?”

Brenda’s mouth twitched.

“And,” my father added, walking to the door and glancing down the hall, “I don’t think you’re the nurse on duty for this floor tonight.”

The air froze for two seconds.

“I… I’m covering for a colleague. She had an emergency.”

My father said nothing, but his expression hardened.

“Then please have the head nurse arrange it for tomorrow. Tonight is not convenient.”

Brenda opened her mouth, as if to say more, but my father had already sat down next to my mother, one hand on her shoulder, the other patting my back.

The message was clear.

You can go.

Brenda’s eyes lingered on me for a few seconds. Through my tear-blurred vision, I saw the coldness in her gaze. Then she turned and pushed the empty cart out of the room.

I quieted down, snuggling into my mother’s warm embrace. She gently patted me, humming a tuneless lullaby. My father didn’t go back to the sofa. He stayed right there, sitting by the bed, watching us.